


Mind the Signs

by the_lost_robot



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crack, Doorwings are people too you know..., Failing at shipping, Friendship, Gen, Parody, and then publish it, but that doesn't mean you should write it, especially about your superior officer, got a face made of metal, it just doesn't end well, my headspace is crack, robots really shouldn't roleplay...especially when wearing human clothes, sight is almost redudant for giant robots, so kissing is really quite unpleasant actually, so why do they keep blindfolding themselves?, sticky sex is crack. and will always be crack. that is all.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lost_robot/pseuds/the_lost_robot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was something they had simply had to adjust to during this long war. Insanity had many forms and Prowl had long theorized that this was simply one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Problematic

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of difficulty shipping characters and instead write scenarios where they don't get together. Prowl and Jazz kinda do this weird frat-boy-ish routine thing in my head when I try to write romance between them. You have been warned.  
> The robots were never mine.

Jazz had a problem.

Now this wasn’t unusual. He normally had problems. Problems like, there’s a great big slagging war that I wish was over or, frag, can someone please kill Megatron now or I need this base blown up or, frag, I’ve grossly miscalculated the count-down timer, RUN.

Unfortunately, this problem did not fall into the normal category of Jazz problems. Which sadly meant it would not be solved with explosions. For Jazz, any problem that couldn’t be solved with either his amazing charm or explosions was not a problem worth solving at all.

Jazz’s problem was Prowl shaped and Prowl made and generally Prowl-ish.

Since exploding Prowl was out of the question and his much vaunted charm was wasted on Prowl, he decided to utilise the rare tactic of straight on confrontation.

“I am in love with you,” he announced fifteen astroseconds after contemplating this discovery and its general unexplodiness. "Madly in love with you. Seriously."

Prowl levelled a deadpan look at the saboteur. “Indeed,” he intoned solemnly. “How convenient it is that I suddenly happen to feel the same way.”

“Really?” Jazz wondered. It seemed highly unlikely. Prowl didn’t like mechs, full stop. End of story. Such is the way of Prowl-frigidom and stoicdom and emotional-repressiondom.

“NO,” the tactician gave an unamused snort. He tolerated Jazz’s existence at best. It was just there were these strange micro-moments that sometimes struck him and suddenly Jazz was the sexiest thing alive to him. It was irritating.

Extremely irritating.

“Well that’s a relief,” Jazz replied. He stretched backwards on the berth and relaxed. After a breem, there was a shift inside him and suddenly things felt normal again. “Ah, there. It’s gone again. I’m not in love with you anymore!” the realisation cheered him up immensely.

“Good,” Prowl flicked a finger towards his door. “Now get out of my room and you won’t be end up court martialled for breaking and entering. And molesting a fellow Autobot in his recharge.”

Unfortunately due to the fact he often fell victim to the same odd compulsions as Jazz, the threat had little weight. It was something they had simply had to adjust to during this long war. Insanity had many forms and Prowl had theorized that this was simply one of them.

“Fine, fine,” Jazz sighed and gathered himself up. “Do you ever think that there’s a reason why we do this?”

Prowl devoted all his attention to answering this question. It took him an astrosecond. “No Jazz,” he answered honestly. “There isn’t one.”


	2. Infatuated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz plays with Prowl's sensor panels. It goes as well as Prowl expects.

He was staring. Again.  
Prowl heaved a sigh and followed Jazz’s line of sight to his doorwings. Why yes, the saboteur was definitely looking at them. And probably thinking devious thoughts about them. Very devious thoughts. Exceptionally devious thoughts.  
The mech was a spy. Being devious was his definition.  
The tactician frowned to himself as he absently tried to decide whether it was worth putting a fight. They were his after all. But the matter of his possession of his possessions was outweighed by the sheer level of deviousness Jazz possessed.  
With a reluctant sigh he approached the mech.

 

Jazz wasn’t expecting Prowl to dump his doorwings on the table next to him. Sure, he’d been devising ways to sweet-talk the mech into letting him borrow them but even he couldn’t have guessed Prowl would beat him to the punch. Prowl’s doorwings were exquisite and he’d been dying to get his hands on them.  
“Here,” Prowl said with extreme irritation. “Have them. Do whatever you want with them. I expect them back next orn.”  
The tactician stomped off in anger.  
Jazz looked down at the doorwings and smiled. “You guys and I are going to have fun.”  
The two components in front of him shivered. In fear.

 

The next orn found one Autobot Jazz extremely irritated, frustrated and other general states of unhappiness and sexually tense as he marched up to one Autobot Prowl, doorwings trailing meekly behind him.  
“They didn’t respond to anything,” he growled, pointing an accusing finger at the guilty party. “Pain, pleasure, nothing!”  
Prowl did not say, well duh, because that would be beneath him and the species that would invent such a phrase would not be around for a few more million years. Instead he allowed the mini mechs back onto their rightful place on his back.  
“Of course they wouldn’t,” Prowl sighed. “They are military models, what else did you expect?”  
One very frustrated cry answered his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by a chat with taunicon. We were talking about Tainry's Borealis I think and she mentioned wanting to see Prowl/wings or something, which probably meant she wanted to see Prowl with actual wings. My headspace took it completely a different way. Because fandom loves to wax poetic about Prowl’s 'doorwings', my headspace decided they might as well be their own entity. And sensitive!doorwings have never made a lot of sense to me because of how vulnerable they would be.


	3. Pain and Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auto-defense protocols are a pain as Jazz and Ravage finds out, much to their misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the crazy here belongs to Tainry and Taunicon. Aaaand is also due to the fact my headspace!characters troll the ever living heck out of each other.

It was an opportunity like no other.

The Autobot SIC had been taken down by a lucky shot from Soundwave. The bulk of the Autobot and Decepticons forces were yet to notice, their focus was on Optimus and Megatron, who were battling it out. Soundwave didn’t dare follow up on his attack, lest he returned attention to the downed mech who had been separated from the rest of his army.

Ravage smirked as he slunk across the battlefield, unnoticed in all the chaos.

This would be easy.

He leapt.

Then the world exploded.

 

Jazz cruised across the now empty battlefield, searching for one missing Autobot SIC. It hadn’t been a clean victory. The Decepticons had made off with about half the energon they had set out to steal but had suffered major damage and eventually Megatron had called a retreat. In the post battle chaos, it had taken the Autobots very little time to notice that one of their number was not responding as they tallied their injuries. Those were fortunate enough not to sustain any damage had set off to find their missing bot.

“Would one Autobot copbot pleaaase respond?” Jazz called out as he moved through shattered boulders and burnt vegetation. Other mechs might have settled for simply calling Prowl by his chosen designation but Jazz figured, if nothing else, that exasperation would make the tactician more likely to respond.

There was an undignified yowl then a shriek. Then a black blur that might have possibly been Ravage shot out from behind a rocky outcrop and past the somewhat bemused saboteur before he had a chance to respond.

“Copbot?” Jazz said curiously.

His sensitive audios caught the approach of two sets of footsteps…both too light to possibly be Prowl’s. Then two small black helms popped out from behind the rocks and glared at him.

“Heeey,” Jazz said delightedly at the sight of the components as he pinged the rest of the Autobots to let them know he’d found, well, parts of Prowl. “Pain and Destruction. How are you doing, little guys? And where’s the copbot?”

He took a step closer, noticed an astrosecond late that they were operating on complete defence mode and was entirely unprepared when the two of them simultaneously raised their weapons and fired.

Everything exploded.

 

Ratchet huffed in irritation as Jazz’s comm signal dropped out. "That moron forgot that Prowl’s components are military grade,” he growled onto the open Autobot channel as concerned queries were directed at the offline saboteur.

He stormed over to Jazz’s last known location, then zapped the two components offline before they could get a shot at him. Honestly. Stupid auto-defence protocols. If Prowl was damaged to the point where he could no longer remain online, the little things just about shot everything that moved, unable to distinguish between friend and foe without his input.

Ratchet commed the rest of the bots to let them know it was now safe to approach.

Cowards, the lot of them.

 

The first thing Jazz did when he was online, coherent and functional enough to get around on his own power, was to drag himself over to Prowl’s med-berth. The tactician gave the saboteur an unamused look before shutting off whatever battle reports he had been processing.

“What?”

“You shot me on purpose,” Jazz accused. Not that the sensor-panel components could have caused serious damage or killed him, they could not handle weapons that powerful. But they could be equipped with electro-shockers that were strong enough to stun a mech offline.

“I did not,” Prowl returned calmly.

“I saw Ratchet’s file. You were online when he found you.”

“Pain and Destruction were operating on base defence protocols.”

“You were perfectly capable of overriding them.”

“Under most circumstances, yes,” Prowl replied so seriously, so sincerely, it almost masked the faint undercurrent of amusement. “For some reason, I could not disengage the protocols.”

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor. “You are made of such slag.”

Prowl snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d have thought it obvious.”

“What?”

“My components really just don’t like you.”


	4. The continuing adventures of component craziness...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheer wtfery at its finest.

Sam did a double-take as he walked past the rec room. “Bee,” he said. “Tell me I’m seeing things. Since when did Optimus have Prowl’s sensor panels?”

The Autobot scout glanced back at the door, then exchanged a quick flurry of comm signals. “It appears,” he began thoughtfully, “That they’ve migrated.”

“What?”

“Migrated,” Bee repeated patiently. “Due to extenuating circumstances they’ve decided that it was time to change host.”

“….extenuating circumstances?” Sam frowned in confusion. “What the hell counts as extenuating circumstances that made them swap bodies?”

“It appears that Prowl banned Pain and Destruction from watching Disney Barbie movies.”

“…You are shitting me.”

“I am not,” Bumblebee replied, mildly affronted. “They have taken a liking for such things. Prowl has not. The difference in opinion has resulted in a reduction of processing compatibility due to a shift in personality coding and therefore the need for migration.”

“Bee. Bee. Seriously. WTF. And also. WTF. Why are your doors wandering off?”

“Well, you see, as Pain and Destruction are the most senior and therefore most dominant components amongst the Autobots, if they migrate, they then trigger all other components to migrate…goodbye Cruel and Unusual….”

Sam watched as complete and utter insanity reigned due to mass component migration for several moments.

Then:

“Did I just see Ironhide’s cannon go past?”


	5. Peer Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz plans a seduction. It goes about as well as he expected, really...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headspace characters are trolls.  
> That is all.  
> The giant robots aren't mine.

He stopped and stared for several long breems, his expression becoming increasingly unhinged the longer he looked. Finally he couldn’t help himself.  
“Stop laughing. No. Seriously. STOP.”  
Prowl waved a hand weakly. “I’m sorry but were you really expecting me to take you seriously?” It took a great deal of effort but he managed to swallow the last of his laughter.  
Jazz leveled a glare at the amused tactician. “Well. Yeah. You really don’t know anything about tact.”  
The current object of his ire took another look at him and started laughing again. “Jazz…just get out. Before I comm Ratchet about the dubious state of your sanity.”  
The saboteur’s scowl deepened. “I’ve been assured that you should have found this irresistible and you would have been unable to do anything but confess your hidden feelings for me.”  
“My hidden feelings?” Prowl repeated incredulously. He stared hard at the insane menace seated in his berth and Prowl’s face became increasingly disturbed as he sought to understand Jazz’s motives…and failed. “Has someone scrambled your processor with a virus?”  
Jazz cast Prowl an annoyed look. “You mean you haven’t been discretely flirting with me for the past thousand vorns?”  
The tactician shuttered his optics at him before lapsing into quiet laughter once more. “No. Is that what you’ve been doing?”  
“No, but everyone else seems to be convinced that that what we’ve been doing,” Jazz idly scratched an audio horn, only to have the movement arrested by the garish decorations he’d adorned himself with. He tried to remove his servo but that only served to further entangle it and he gave up with a loud exvent.  
“So, you gave into peer pressure?” Prowl leveled an admonishing look at his comrade. “Is that the reason for this…abomination in my room?”  
“Mechs were very insistent. They seemed to have a lot of wild ideas of what we should be doing and how to do it. So I figure this way would shut everyone up and give me some peace and quiet. Admittedly, this would have been the strangest seduction in my life, but I try not to judge a bot by their kinks.”  
“I…see,” the tactician winced as something snapped and was launched across the room somewhere into his belongings. “Now that we’ve cleared this misunderstanding up, could you please remove yourself and your accompanying atrocity from my vicinity?”  
“Not a problem, Prowl,” Jazz answered easily. He made to rise; displacing a cloud of glitter as he did, then he froze. “Slag.”  
“I was vaguely curious as to how you managed to get in here like that but I suspected the answer would be traumatizing,” Prowl mentioned, backing away carefully. He discreetly sent a comm call to Ratchet for assistance.  
“No, no, I’ve got this.” Jazz evidently had hacked the line.  
Prowl raised an optic ridge dubiously. “Really?”  
The saboteur straightened to his full height and the outfit was ripped to pieces. Prowl wasn’t sure how exactly he’d procured the human garment in mech sized proportions but found that he had no desire to learn any more of this insanity than he already had been exposed to.  
“That is so much better,” Jazz exclaimed with relief, yanking a rogue ribbon off his helm. “Can you really believe that there are bots that go crazy for this stuff? How do they even to the good parts when these things fall apart at the slightest movement?”  
“I’m still struggling to understand how the crew decided that I fell into that lunacy,” Prowl observed neutrally, eying the mess of shredded clothing around his berth. Someone was going to have to clean that up and knowing Jazz, it wouldn’t be him.  
“Hey,” Jazz said, “At least I didn’t blindfold myself. Raj was really convinced you’d go for that.”  
The tactician’s faceplates took on a pained look. “We have thermal vision.”  
“I know.”  
“Motion trackers.”  
“I know.”  
“Spark scanners.”  
“I know.”  
“Sight is almost redundant.”  
“Yep.”  
Prowl looked a little lost and Jazz knew he was wondering why anybot would find such a thing arousing but the tactician was far too sensible to ask. “Don’t worry,” he assured him. “I’ve spoken to Red and access to the internet is going to be severely restricted from now on. It’ll be easy to enforce because Ratchet is convinced that they’re slowly going insane from all the exposure and he's prepared to back up Red.”  
“So that’s the real reason behind this. Your processor has been degraded due to overexposure.”  
Jazz finally started laughing. “Course not Prowl. I just wanted to see the look on your face. And it was worth it, mech, it was worth it.”


	6. In love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl has a problem, he is in love with Jazz. No, wait a minute, what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crack. As usual.  
> Because to me, Prowl would remain stoic and impassive even if he was in love.  
> Also, I think too much about giant robot 'biology,' if you will.
> 
> The robots are not mine.

Prowl had a problem.  
This was not an unusual occurrence. When one was the second in command to the Autobot forces, one would expect lots of problems. Such is the nature of war and the price it takes on those involved in it.  
Nevertheless, Prowl found this problem rather irksome. Why? Well, for some ridiculous reason it was diverting his attention –which was vital to the Autobots cause and mechs died when he was not at his best!- to things he did not have the time nor the inclination to entertain.  
Prowl was in love.  
Despite all rumours to the contrary, Prowl actually was familiar with this sensation and recognised it for what it was. That wasn’t the problem.  
Prowl was in love with Jazz.  
Barring the monumental stupidity and risk of having two officers involved with each other, again that wasn’t the problem. Prowl was a mature, rationale individual and he was quite capable of keeping his feelings to himself and conducting himself sensibly. In another lifetime perhaps or different circumstances, he would have acted on his feelings. But currently, what mattered to him the most was keeping his Autobots safe, alive and not losing to the Decepticons. And that was more than enough for him to handle.  
No, Prowl’s problem stemmed from the fact it wasn’t actually him in love.

  
 _This should not be happening_ , was Prowl’s forlorn thought. _This is not me._  
Jazz had come in to discuss tactics and somehow Prowl had been reduced to a blushing, stammering, nervous wreck. It was infuriating. It was driving him insane. He _knew_ what he wanted to say, was inwardly calm and stoic and just generally very Prowl. And yet every word that came out of his vocaliser was wrong. Very wrong. It made him flinch at the inanity.  
“You alright there, Prowl?” Jazz asked in concern.  
Some strange and foreign part of Prowl’s processor gave a delighted giggle. _Jazz cares about me!!!_ It squeed and melted into a pile of warm fuzzies. _He’s talking to me. Me. MEEEEEE!!!_  
And then it spoke despite Prowl’s every attempt to the contrary. “I’m…fine Jazz,” that strange, strange part said coquettishly. It shuttered his optics at him and then gave a very warm smile before reaching out to take the saboteur's hand. “But, thank you for asking.”  
Inwardly it went, _ask me more Jazz. Anything. Please, please, please, please, please keep talking to me. I could stare at you forever._  
Prowl mentally gave it a long, firm, disapproving stare and then a kick for good measure. Just what exactly was going on here? The…thing in control of his frame was an unknown deviation in his base coding, though how it had occurred he had no idea. And why was it staring at Jazz’s face and fantasizing about kissing Jazz’s lips? They were Cybertronians. Their faces were made of metal and _kissing_ another metal face would be awkward at best. Unlike humans, their ‘skin’ was not embedded with sensors everywhere and the few that they had were dulled down in capacity. They were capable of surviving in the cold of space, extreme heat, laser fire and missiles. If they felt any of those things with high intensity, it would be quick to overwhelm their processors and that could easily become fatal. Kissing was as un-arousing as a full processor defrag.  
 _If you kissed him, you would mangle both our faces,_ he scowled at the unknown entity, _and our working relationship. And my willpower to continue living._  
 _But look at him! His frame! Isn’t it incredibly attractive?_  
 _…given that our species is a chimeric race, able to transform and adapt to different environments, an ‘attractive frame’ is a vague and shallow notion._  
 _He is amazing. I feel so much lighter around him, whenever I hear his musical laughter. I don’t have to be such a tight-aft with him. I can just be myself. It’s so freeing._  
It was like he’d been plunged into his very own personal hell. While Prowl accepted that he was regarded a tight-aft by a majority of the Autobot forces, his behaviour did not deviate regardless of his company, Jazz or no Jazz. Where had this thing come from?  
 _Who the slag are you?_ He demanded. _And what are you doing in my processor?_  
 _I am Prowl, Second in Command to the Autobots._  
If there had been a wall nearby and he was capable of it, Prowl would have been banging his head against it. _No you are not. You are a moron._  
 _I am_. It pouted at him then turned lustful optics at the unfortunate saboteur unaware of the internal battle being waged inside his comrade. Prowl found the deviation’s expression rather obscene. He refused to believe that it was a part of him. It was too…dreamy. Obsessive and frightfully so. It also did not seem all that bright and its behaviour and mentality when it came to Jazz was sickening.  
 _I am in love with him_ , it protested. _Without him I am nothing. Nothing! Life is not worth living. I would shut down._  
 _ **I** wish you would shut down._  
Maybe he had been hacked. That could have caused this craziness. He followed the intruder to its source and was greatly frustrated to discover it really did originate from his base coding. His attempts to remove it bounced back almost immediately. If it was a hack, it was a very, very good one.  
 _Stop that. It’s distracting._  
 _If its keeping you from looking at Jazz, I’m all for it,_ Prowl responded, returning his attention to what the deviation was doing.  
“Prowl?” Jazz was giving his frame an openly worried look and was backing up slowly.  
 _What are you-_  
His frame lunged forward and attempted to plant a kiss on the saboteur’s face. Unfortunately it failed to account for both of their bumpers and Jazz was able to land a very solid punch on Prowl’s helm.  
The tactician welcomed the darkness as he offlined. At least the deviation would be unable to humiliate him any longer.

  
“You’ve been hacked,” was Jazz’s cheerful words upon Prowl’s onlining.  
Prowl shuttered his optics once, then ran an internal scan. The deviation with its frightful obsessiveness was gone. He was alone inside his frame and control had been restored to him. Relief swelled through Prowl’s circuits. That…had been the most uncomfortable experience of his life.  
“I figured as much,” he responded, once he was certain everything was fine. His optics onlined again and he stared for a very long moment at Jazz’s face. “What happened to you?”  
“While I was chasing down that virus, you tried kissing me. Repeatedly.”  
Prowl winced. “It looks…painful.”  
“Believe me, it was.”


	7. Fanfiction and the perils of writing about your superior officer's non-existent sex life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return you to your irregularly scheduled crack.
> 
> The giant robots are not mine. The crazy has gotten to my headspace again. I believe at some point I said these guys descend to frat-boy-ish behavior when I toss them together.

"‘Prowl gasped at the sight of Jazz’s spike, it was extremely long and thick. 'I can’t wait to feel _that_ inside me,' he moaned with desire.

Jazz leant forward, teasing Prowl’s doorwings with quick servos. 'Want to-want to feel you, Prowler-'

The saboteur wedged a leg between Prowl’s, groaning as his spike brushed against the other’s thigh. They pressed their bodies together and-‘”

Prowl broke off and lowered the datapad connected to his wrist-port to stare at the miscreant seated on the other side of his desk. “I’ve always known you were insane Sideswipe,” he intoned drolly, “But now I have proof.”

The front-liner squirmed under his scrutiny. “I can explain,” he said bravely.

Prowl raised one optic ridge then glanced down at the datapd in his servo as if to say, really Sideswipe? You can explain _this?_ Go ahead and try. Your pitiful excuses will amuse me.

It was scary how well he resembled Megatron right at this moment.

“It’s the humans, sir,” Sideswipe said quickly.

“The humans,” Prowl repeated dryly. He swept his gaze over his office as though looking for these aforementioned humans and, when none of them spontaneously appeared in front of him, returned his attention back to his lone culprit. “The humans…made you write this. You, a capable Autobot warrior who is several times their size.”

Pull the other Sideswipe. Or maybe just go jump off a cliff and save yourself from the punishment that I’m going to give you. It’ll be less painless.

It was amazing what Prowl could express with his body language, especially when he was as blank faced and rigid as he was at this moment.

“Well yes, it was the humans. I’d noticed that they are obsessed with sex. It’s everywhere in their media, their music, their television, on the internet. Everywhere. And they are willing to pay money for it. So I thought there must be _some_ way of making money from that. And-”

Prowl exvented gustily. “‘Jazz pushed his spike into Prow’s valve,’” he read tonelessly. "‘The two mechs moaned at the sensations unfurling through their bodies.’”

Sideswipe flinched at his superior’s deadpan delivery. “Sir? Seriously, could you not read it that like that? You are butchering a work of art.”

He was soundly ignored. “‘Jazz began to thrust wildly into Prowl’s valve,’” the tactican continued on. “’He pressed his lips against Prowl’s and they exchanged a hot kiss-‘”

“ _Seriously_ Prowl. Could you just stop and let me explain?” Sideswipe pleaded. He was startled when the room’s third occupant broke down and started giggling helplessly.

“Frag no, Siders, this is hilarious,” Jazz somehow declared between bursts of laughter.  Prowl gave the saboteur a patient look but obligingly stopped reading and waited for Sideswipe’s answers.

“Alright, look. I figured I could make some money for us by selling a fictionalized account of the war except I decided to sex it up a lot because apparently that’s a strategy that works well on humans. And the humans are really obsessed with the pair of you, so that’s why I used you. I’m sorry, I should have asked-“

“According to your account, Jazz spends much of his time interfacing his way through the Decepticon forces to gather intel,” Prowl replied blandly over Jazz's non-stop giggles. “Not only is this grossly inaccurate but I doubt we will ever be able to salvage his reputation to placate the humans.”

“Well, er, I wasn’t going to tell them what he really does,” Sideswipe argued feebly. He was aware of the twin disbelieving stares leveled on his helm and shrunk down in his seat. “I had to make stuff up.”

“Like the mech genitalia?” Prowl inquired flatly.

“Yes, like the mech genitalia,” the front-liner replied sullenly. Really, he’d thought that had been a brilliant stroke on his part.

“Mech genitalia!” Jazz snickered as he tried to get control of his laughter. “Of all ridiculous- you gave us human genitalia! Oh Siders, what-? Why would you even-?”

“I had to make it relatable to them!” the frontliner protested. “They’re organics, it has to be something they recognize or they wouldn’t be interested-!”

“Is that why Prowl is a blushing virgin who I had to break into the world of adulthood and sexy fun times?” Jazz cut in brightly, still trying to get his mirth under control.

“Well, er-“

At this point, even Prowl’s ironclad control couldn’t last. The corner of his faceplates twitched. This was a bad sign of impending volcanic eruption. “I believe you have outdone yourself,” he said tightly before returning his attention to the datapad. “‘The speed of Jazz’s thrusts sped up-‘“

Sideswipe leapt to his pedes and hastily vacated Prowl’s office, never mind that his punishment was probably going to be much, much worse for breaking the rules so blatantly in front of his two COs. But he wasn’t going to remain there and listen to Prowl read smut, smut that he, Sideswipe had written, in the most monotonous voice in existence.

It was torture.

It was pure evil.

Some mechs just didn't have an appreciation for genius.

With Sideswipe gone, Prowl disconnected the datapd then melted it away into nothing with his acid rifle. “That mech is a lunatic,” he declared before giving a quiet but undignified snort of amusement. Jazz weakly waved a hand at him, unable to speak. Prowl tried to keep his faceplates smooth but soon he was quietly chuckling.

Jazz managed to gain control of himself long enough to gasp out in a falsetto, “’Oh Prowl, your valve is _amazing_!’

‘Take me Jazz! Take me harder!’

‘Prowl!’

“Jazz!’

‘Proooooowl!’

‘Jaaaaaazz!’”

The tactician gave Jazz a helpless look. “Should I be disturbed at how easily you did both our voices just then? I've never even heard my voice go that high.”

Jazz gave a lazy grin. “Nah. Just enjoy my the rest of my recital, I’ve been practicing and waiting for this ever since Sider’s book got published,” he confessed. “He has so many terrible lines, it’s practically gold.”

Prowl gave an indulgent wave. “Continue then.”

“‘The two were quickly approaching overload,’” Jazz narrated dramatically, “‘Their bodies gyrated in unison, matching each other movements. It was perfection. It felt so good. It was ecstasy. Jazz thrust wildly and then sent a magnetic charge through Prowl’s doorwings. The tactician overloaded with a feral howl-‘"

“…those are environmental sensor panels and they are not physically sensitive,” Prowl murmured quietly.

“-Hush you, don’t logic this train wreck.  ‘Jazz was dragged into his own overload by the sight of Prowl’s rapturous face-’”

“You have got to be joking.” Prowl didn’t do rapture. Or anything else rather than his stoic, blank face.

“‘He collapsed onto Prowl’s prone form, venting wildly. The two lay quietly in each other’s’ arms for several long breems. Then Prowl roused himself. ‘I love you,’ he confessed quietly.

‘I love you too,’ Jazz replied. The saboteur’s spike was still pressurized-‘”

“Oh dear Primus, it goes on?”

The saboteur flashed him a sharp smile. “Prowl, we have twenty five more chapters of this to get through. Brace yourself, we're in for a long haul.”

It was at that point that Prowl’s door was pinged. Prowl checked his visitor’s ID and then signalled the door to open, allowing Optimus’s majestic bulk to fill the room. “I just saw Sideswipe run down the hall like he had Unicron on his tailpipe,” he said in lieu of greeting.

“Apparently he is quite happy to write his torrid romances but not to hear them being read out loud,” Prowl replied smoothly. Already, he had begun to sort through the work he had piled up, running data analysis and combat simulations. Multi-tasking was the only way he ever managed to get anything done.

Optimus raised an optic ridge and glanced questioningly at Jazz. “You’ve come just in time, Boss-Bot, for the good stuff!” the saboteur exclaimed.

The Prime couldn’t help himself, he grimaced involuntary. And took a big step away from Jazz. Just in case he needed to make a quick exit. He wasn't deeply uncomfortable with this stuff. Nope. Not at all.

“If the good stuff is what I think it is, I’d rather not,” he replied.

Jazz waved a hand in denial. “I was just going to skip to the ending,” he said.

“What happens in the ending?” Prime wondered cautiously.

“More human style interfacing,” Jazz replied. Seeing that Optimus was about to flee, he added, “But I changed it to make it more interesting. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“Interesting,” Prowl repeated flatly. He eyed the saboteur dubiously. “Much of Sideswipe’s story could fall under the category of ‘interesting.’  As in, ‘we really need to find out the reason his coding is so warped…and then remove all traces of whatever aberration has arisen. And then check with Vegma Sigma so it never happens again.’”

The saboteur was un-phased by his comrades’ disbelief. “’Jazz thrust into Prowl’s valve, groaning at the sensation. It was so tight, so perfect. He wanted to stay there forever-!’"

Optimus turned to leave the room but was halted by the next line.

"‘…And that was when his spark gave out due to the sheer amount of interfacing he’d done over the past few orns,'” Jazz finished with a very smug grin. "The fragging end."

Optimus shuttered his optics in gobsmacked confusion while Prowl gave a very undignified snort of amusement. “Bravo,” he said, “I applaud your decision to kill yourself off and escape from this terrible story. Any chance you could persuade Sideswipe to kill me in the inevitable sequel which he is going to write despite all orders to the contrary?”

“But Prowl! We had so much uh, interfacing to do. And I think there’s something called a sparkling that we created and you ‘carry’ apparently.”

There was a startled burst of static from Prime’s corner of the room. Jazz and Prowl both calmly glanced at their superior officer as he tried to collect himself. “Cybertronian pregnancy?” he questioned, staring at Prowl’s frame in horror and no doubt trying to rid his processor of the mental image it had created.

Prowl gave a resigned exvent as Jazz grinned brightly. “Don’t ask,” the SIC advised.

“But how-?”

“No.”

“Why-?”

“No.”

“Sideswipe?”

“Will never be understood. Ever.”

Optimus stared at his two closest friends. “I dread to think what you are going to do to him,” he said.

Prowl _smiled_.

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, bearer of the Matrix, shivered.

In fear.


	8. Re-education

**Re-education**

  
  
Prowl loomed as best as he was able over Sideswipe. The red front-liner cringed under his superior’s bland but unfailing gaze and the sight of the datapad –that _blasted datapad­_ \- plugged into Prowl’s wrist port.

“Sir?”

Prowl very, very slowly, deliberately slid his optics down to the datapad. Then, just as painstakingly slow, back up to Sideswipe’s face. The tactician’s expression remained smooth and unfazed.

It was like staring into the face of the Unmaker.

“Sideswipe,” Prowl began in slow, measured tones. “Having perused through this _fascinating_ piece of literature, it has come to my attention that you have distressingly little knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy. For a front-line warrior, this lack of knowledge could have _fatal_ consequences on the battlefield. This oversight must be corrected and so I have conferred with Ratchet. You will be having remedial classes with him twice an orn until your knowledge is up to acceptable standards.”

Sideswipe’s EM field spiked in anxiety. As a front-liner and a former gladiator, his knowledge of Cybertronian anatomy was actually considerably higher than that of the average Autobot. And Prowl knew it.

 _Ratchet_ knew it.

“But I _know-_ ”

“Jazz fried his processor trying to understand chapter forty nine,” the tactician added calmly. “Ratchet is understandably upset.”

Sideswipe was almost afraid to know what had managed to reduced unpredictable, adaptable Jazz to the medic’s tender mercy. “Chapter forty-nine?”

“He said it was something called…breathplay I believe?” Prowl levelled a very dull, disappointed look at the front-liner, like he couldn’t believe the levels of lunacy they were descending to. It made Sideswipe feel about two inches tall.

“Well…”

“Don’t try to blame it on the humans,” Prowl advised pleasantly as though sensing the turn Sideswipe’s thoughts were about to take.

“The book is selling very well,” Sideswipe said instead as a peace offering. “All the money it’s made is going into Teletraan’s accounts.”

And not into Sideswipe’s own personal accounts. It was clear by his tone that he thought this was a major sacrifice that he’d nobly conceded to on his part and not because Jazz had hacked his accounts and simply given him no choice in the matter.

“That’s very nice,” the tactician said agreeably. “Your first lesson will be on our air intake systems and how anything that induces sensations from them would involve major breakage and structural damage.”

The frontliner knew when he’d been beaten. But he still had one question. “Sir? Why…why are you still reading that?”

Prowl paused and gave the datapad clutched in his grasp a cursory look as if it could explain all the madness in the world. Or at the very least, the chaos that lurked within the red front-liner in front of him.

“Inoculation,” he said simply, blinking his optics once. “I think Jazz is trying to adapt it to a viral form to be used to torture information out of Decepticon prisoners. He is very enthusiastic about it but given that the condition he arrived in the med-bay, I’m afraid it’s quite potent. I’m certain the Decepticons have also noticed this potential. Our intel does indicate that it has come to their attention and that most of the Decepticon High Command has read it.”

Sideswipe eyed the datapad with fresh horror. “Has Prime authorized this?” he questioned in a very small voice.

“Prime has informed me that your titillating historical account does not exist. Because if it did, he would have to execute you.”

Sideswipe gave Prowl a very sad look. It did not dredge any sympathy from his superior. “I think I’m going to go see Ratchet and get a head-start on those lessons,” he said, recognising that he’d burnt all his bridges with Autobot command.

As he walked off, Prowl called out. “Sideswipe? I also informed Ratchet that you clearly also needed basic Cybertronian interfacing education. I believe he has scheduled you in with the session he is giving the Dinobots. He said something about needing an aid for practical demonstrations…?”


End file.
